


The Amazing Adventures of: The Man With a Plan

by gwevyan



Series: Steve Rogers Week [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Former Army soldier Bucky, Gen, Homelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwevyan/pseuds/gwevyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is willing to give up absolutely everything to help Bucky get settled back into civilian life.  Now he's secretly sleeping rough to save cash, working two jobs, and churning out artwork- until he runs right into Anthony Stark, and his biggest commission ever.  If they can keep from throwing each other off the tower roof, anyway.  And if Bucky doesn't throw them BOTH off when he comes home...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Amazing Adventures of: The Man With a Plan

Steve runs down the numbers again.  Even if he manages to find a second job, something on a graveyard or early morning shift he can fit in around his 9-5 as a grocery store clerk, and takes on more art commissions, he’s still short.  He never had a TV to begin with so he can’t cancel that service, and he needs his cell phone to discuss commissions, so there just aren’t any more bills he can cut.

The biggest problem is rent, really.  New York City is bad enough for a single guy who’s happy in a crummy studio, but when Bucky moves in they’re going to need two bedrooms.  And Steve just can’t afford a two bedroom apartment in the city.  Bucky’s pension will be pretty big even though he’s leaving the Army so young, because the government writes a pretty big check when a guy loses an arm for them.  Even so….

Steve sighs and leans back into the sofa, letting his notebook rest flat on his legs.  He’d gone to the VA hospital to visit Bucky that morning, like he did every day.  And lately, _every day_ was the same old argument. 

Steve wants Bucky to go college, get a degree.

Bucky tells Steve to fuck off.

He needs a degree, though, and Steve knows it.  Steve’s own Fine Arts certificate didn’t get him very far in the end because he couldn’t afford to go to the kind of school with professional networks, but Bucky could do so much better!  Bucky’s smart, and he’s gritty enough to stick out the hard parts.  He could be a doctor or an engineer or a software designer.  In return for his years of service, the Army will pay most of his school bills.  The only trouble, then, is how Steve is going to pay both their room and board all by himself.  And the numbers aren’t working out.  Bucky has at least six weeks of in-patient physical therapy in front of him, which is great- not great that his risk of infection and complications is so high, but great that Steve doesn’t have to worry about a bigger apartment just yet, at least.

Though….

Steve wonders, for a moment.  If the biggest problem is rent, what if he just…takes rent out of the equation?  What if he lives rent-free until it’s time for Bucky’s release?

Steve scratches lines through several items on his budget list and adds in a few new ones: $25 a month for membership to the YMCA so he can shower every day, a few dollars a week to use a laundromat, however much it’ll cost to open a PO Box and a small storage unit.  But no rent, no utilities, no maintenance fees.  It just might be doable.

If he can only keep it a secret from Bucky that he’s voluntarily sleeping on the streets.

***

It’s not so bad, at first.  Brooklyn doesn’t get too cold at night in July, and Steve’s a big enough guy that the strung-out druggies and wannabe gangsters all leave him alone.  The neighborhood homeless don’t pay him any mind when it’s clear he won’t be taking over anybody’s panhandling spot.

He can do this for a month or two.  He can put up with just about anything for only a month or two, Steve tells himself.  It’s for Bucky, after all, and Bucky’s put up with a lot worse for a lot longer.  He shuffles down in his sleeping bag to hide his face from the glare of the street lights.  This back-alley loading bay will probably feel just like home in a few weeks.

***

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, it was all- hang on, did you just say _gosh_?”

Steve pauses, crouched on the sidewalk and scooping up the papers from the folder he’d dropped when he ran smack into a man leaving the door a few yards down from his loading bay.  He’d been looking down at the folder, flicking through the stack of commissioned comics to make sure everything was there, and hadn’t noticed the man in front of him until it was too late.  “I…what’s wrong with ‘gosh’?”

“Nothing at all,” the man says with a bright grin.  “If you were at least fifty years older than you look.  Here, these are yours, too.”

“Thanks.”  Steve holds his hands out for the sketches.  At the last moment, though, the stranger doesn’t let go.  He stares down at the comics in his hands.

“Did you do these?” the man asks, glancing up.

“Yeah.”  Steve’s still holding his hand out, not sure if he should lower his arm or not.  It’s awkward.

“These are really good,” the man says, sounding surprised.  “I mean, _really_ good.  I like the kinda old-fashioned style you’ve got going on here.  Sort of hipster and ‘Good Ole Boy’ wholesome at the same time.  I…like it.”  He says the last part like it’s some kind of decision.  Then he slaps the papers against his other hand and squares up to Steve.  “How much for another set of these?  For me?  For my new ad campaign?”

Steve frowns and looks the guy up and down.  He doesn’t look much like a business manager, with his ratty jeans and t-shirt and even rattier shoes.  But then, what does Steve know?  “It depends,” he says cautiously.  “Whether you want line drawings or full color, how many panels, that kind of thing.  What’s the ad for?”

“The new StarkPhone,” the stranger says immediately.  “We’re running head to head with Apple on this one and the new tech features on their own are never enough to sway the die-hard iPhone fans, so we need a really catchy, unique campaign.  Like comics.  You can make me a comic that looks like a real comic, you know, flying superheroes and implausibly underdressed women and all that normal stuff, but then it’s actually just a really cool ad for the new StarkPhone.  We’ll run ‘em in all the major magazines.”  The stranger starts pacing the alley, waving his arms as he gets more and more excited.  “We can have characters around it.  Old-school posters stuck up all over the place.  Fan clubs with stickers.  Tsum tsums!”

“Sure,” Steve agrees.  He wonders if the guy actually works for Stark Industries at all- he seems more ‘high midlifer’ than highly-placed executive.  And it’s not like Steve’s loading bay is sticking off the back of Stark Tower.  “I have some standard commission forms I can email you,” he offers.  “If you have a business card?”

“Oh, yeah.  Of course.  Somewhere.  Here.”  The man finally hands over Steve’s papers so he can pat down all of his pockets, eventually producing a stained, wrinkled business card.  He hands it over.

 _Anthony E Stark_ , Steve reads.

He has to read it again, just to make sure.

“You’re Tony Stark?” he blurts, then flushes and nearly claps a hand over his mouth.  It’s just- this guy is definitely not the Tony Stark who turns up on tabloid magazine and New York Times covers.

“The one and only,” Stark says, flashing a toothy grin and tipping an invisible hat.  “Come on, what was it?  What’s your name?”

“Uh, Steve, sir.”

“Ugh, ick, no.”  Stark flaps his hands and screws up his face in disgust.  “No sirring, I don’t like that.  Makes me sound like my dad.  Come on, Steve.”  He throws an arm up and over Steve’s shoulders.  “Huh.  Tall guy, ain’t’cha?  Let’s go brainstorm.  Can we make the superhero look a little bit like me?  At least the beard, right?  All real superheroes need magnificent facial hair.”


End file.
